Number Forty-Eight
by Durriken
Summary: 9S can find no peace from the horrible treatment of his parents, so when a mysterious maid named 2B shows up and shows him how to smile again, it's almost too good to be true. But will her arrival bring him the happiness he's been longing for, or will he wish he had never met her in the first place?


**A/N**: I feel like writing this was cathartic for some reason, so sit back, relax, and enjoy:

**Number Forty-Eight**

* * *

"9S?"

There it was again.

"9S, quit hiding around the corner and come here, will you?"

There was that voice, the one that belonged to what people told him was his mother. He supposed they were right, because why would they lie? Granted, 9S hadn't been of sound mind during his birth to remember who exactly had brought him into his world twelve years ago, but he was told it was due to his…_mother,_ and his father, another being he had to believe had a hand in his conception based on the account of others.

"_9S_."

The voice had grown crisp, past the point of impatient. Not surprising, it was really one of two vocal levels that his mother possessed. If she wasn't impatient with him, she was annoyed. And when those two were worn out, then she normally spoke to him, about him, with pure disgust, like she also couldn't believe that such a child could be hers and was seconds away from demanding visual evidence of the day she gave birth.

Hunching up his shoulders, 9S came around the corner, stopping just in the doorway to an overly decorated living room filled with white chairs, sofas, and a glistening piano in the far corner that he had tried to played once.

He still had the scar on the back of his hand from when his father got through flaying him to within an inch of his life. Understandably, yet to the shock of many, he lost much of his enthusiasm for musical instruments after that.

"Really? This now?" The deep, rough timber of a voice that showed all the signs of a heavy smoker, it belonged to his father. Also, 9S could smell the after-scent of whiskey sloppily hidden behind a heavy wave of cologne. "9S, will you quit playing around and get over here? You act as if we've all day to wait."

Even if they did have all day to wait on him, spending even two minutes in his presence was apparently more or less akin to torture, because 9S rarely saw hide nor hair or his parents, unless it was dinner time. And 'saw' was a relatively strong word considering his condition; he felt them at the table at any rate, heard the sound of their chewing, which was amazing by itself, how one could _chew_ with disapproval.

Yet, as 9S began the march toward the main couch, he had to admit, on a scale of all the hurtful ways his parents had called to him before, this was surprisingly benign, so that obviously meant that there was someone else in the room. Someone they wanted to introduce him to no doubt.

He came to a practiced halt next to his mother. The frost rolling off her was so pronounced that 9S regretted not bringing a coat, and he didn't need to look up at her to know she was glaring down her nose at him. "I'm here," he said shortly, having learned that quick replies usually led to the least problems, less to throw back in his face—

"Clearly, as you're standing next to me," his mother shot back regretfully, and 9S had to fight with himself to remain silent, because if his mother thought the idea of him standing at her side was as nauseating as her tone suggested, then she had no idea how it was making him feel. "And do something about your posture, won't you? Is that sniveling stance anyway for one of the Yorha family to present themselves?"

It was extremely telling where his parents concern lay based off that command alone. They had no care for when 9S showed up from school a beaten mess, they showed no empathy when a storm knocked out the power and all he wanted to do was be in their company, and even the little things, such as the way he breathed, were brought under harsh scrutiny.

Sometimes, 9S had to wonder why his parents dealt with him at all. If just the mere sight of him was enough to curl their lips like they were smelling dung, then why was he still here? Why had they not sent him off? Abandoned him? Dropped him off like the daily delivery of milk on someone else's doorstep? To those questions, he had no answer, but a part of him, a section of his heart that had yet to corrode with all the malice lashed his way, liked to think it was because they really did care for him. They kept him clothed, after all, there was always food when he wanted, the help was genuinely kind to him….

"9S, are you paying attention?"

His mother's words cut through his thought process with jarring force, almost causing him to lose his balance, but he caught himself and stood straighter, nodding feverishly. "Y-yes, mom, I was."

"Then why are you hesitating?" she asked derisively, and before 9S could even begin to fret, because he had no idea as to what she was talking about, she unknowingly came to his rescue by saying, "Take off your eye wrap."

Now 9S really did hesitate, and with good reason. Since as far back as he could remember, he had been forced to cover his eyes, only being permitted to take it off during the night. His parents never told him why he had to keep his eyes hidden but, as with most things about his existence, 9S just assumed his pupils were a shade they didn't like, or maybe his right eye was lazy and he didn't know it, the list was never-ending really—but with such harsh conditions implemented from an early age, 9S had grown an affinity for seeing in the dark. Not with absolute clarity but he could make out shapes well enough to traverse his parents mansion of a home with a grace that he never showed in their presence.

"This child…." His father sighed with annoyance, and he had only just inhaled to say something that probably would have incinerated 9S's feelings when another voice spoke.

"Allow me, young sir."

It was a voice that 9S had never heard before in his natural life, but for some reason, felt like this person had been calling out to him since the day his ears were able to discern sound

When a hand closed in on the sides of his head, 9S tensed, wholly expecting to be struck. It was what he had grown accustomed to, so when the fingers at his skull deftly undid his wrap and pulled it away, and when 9S finally had true sight for the first time in over a year… what he saw—no… _who_ he saw was a very tall, very beautiful and lithe woman dressed in the most provocative style of maids wear he had ever seen.

And she had the same kind of wrap around her eyes that he did.

Unfortunately, the other side-effect to having his eyes hidden in darkness for so long was a sharp, almost volcanic rise in sensitivity, which was something 9S typically remembered whenever he removed his wrap, but having it done by someone else—and so gently at that—had caused a terrible lapse in memory, so 9S was only able to hold this strange woman in his visage for a count of zero before he hit the ground screaming.

* * *

When was the last time 9S had experienced so much fun that the day slipped right into night without his knowing?

He couldn't even remember.

"Ex… excuse me, Miss 2B? Could… could you remove my eye wrap me for again? The lights are off, right?"

A thread of anxiety cinched around 9s's stomach right after the words left his mouth and he felt a twinge of nausea. It wasn't like him to hope this much, or this hard, but for some reason, this woman, Miss 2B… the past ten hours had been some of the best he could recall in recent years thanks to her.

Apparently, Miss 2B was the latest addition to the maid line of the Yorha family, which by itself wasn't really a cause for fanfare as 9S had never met any of the help in such a fashion, but what made Miss 2B different was that she came with a recommendation from his late grandmother, the previous head of the family, and the only person capable of making 9S smile just by speaking to him. She had been his beacon of light for a long time, always offering up kinds words and warm hugs, listening to his struggles and gracing him with her advice in return; she was more of a mother to him than his own biological mother, and he found it incredibly funny to learn that his grandmother didn't much fancy her daughter's acerbic attitude either.

So knowing that his late grandmother had assigned 2B to them before her passing was like an early birthday present. In a scary, almost dreamlike chain of events too good to be true, his parents had also assigned 2B to be his head maid, which by itself wasn't too odd, having a head butler or maid was nothing new to him, but 2B _was_ the new one. Typically, for the Yorha household at least, the head position only went to those with extensive years of service in the mansion.

"As your maid, I must insist you refrain from calling me 'miss'," 2B began, and her voice, so monotone and devoid of any hint of emotion, was weirdly the most soothing sound 9S had ever heard, "but as your protector, you may call me whatever you feel like."

This wasn't the first time she had called herself that, his protector, and just like then, he still didn't have a clue what she meant and figured she was just odd like that, which he found amazing, that someone like her could be so awesome and so in tune with him. Never in his life had 9S been in the company of someone who just… understood him, and so effortlessly. Conversation was so easy with Miss 2B, she knew what he was trying to say even when he didn't, even when he stuttered; and despite her odd lack of emotion, each of her responses showcased a genuine care. To anyone else, 9S figured his constant stream of questions might have been cause to smother him to death with a pillow, but he couldn't help it!

This was so new, so refreshing, having someone to talk to that didn't see him as a walking embarrassment or a piece of furniture to be polished, and 2B answered each and every inquiry he had, never once displaying even a hint of annoyance. In fact, she often asked questions of her own, such as his favorite color ("Green! Wh-whenever I can see it…"), or his favorite book ("This fantasy novel about androids in space!"), or, like a few seconds ago, what he liked to do on the weekends.

When 9S didn't answer that last one, his silence didn't go unnoticed by 2B, who was taking her time undoing his eye wrap, her movements just as caring as her words. She didn't snatch it off like how everyone else seemed to find pleasure in doing, and 9S couldn't help but wonder if they were trying to crack his neck from the whiplash.

"Surely you must find pleasure in some extracurricular activities on such leisurely days," 2B said musingly, taking his wrap, folding it masterfully, and placing it on the nightstand.

At first, 9S kept his eyes firmly shut, sitting there next to 2B with his hands clenched into fists over his legs. Something in the back of his head told him it was safe here, in his room, with her; he could already tell from the coolness in the air that all the lights had been preemptively turned off—because Miss 2B was just that amazing—so he really had nothing to fear.

Except for the cacophony of demons hissing and roaring at him from the dark corners of his abused mind. They told him that the moment he opened his eyes, 2B would flick on flashlight aimed right in his face; or that she would splash him in the face with a cup of water; or, perhaps most realistically, she would merely quit on the spot. Like so many had before her who first saw his eyes.

And he would sooner remain blind for the rest of his life than lose—

"I'm not going anywhere," he heard her say calmly, as if she could hear the very turmoil sloshing about in his skull. "Do you trust me?"

Normally, that was the type of question asked after a lengthy amount of time had transpired between two people. Something as fragile yet as ironclad as trust took quite a while to build—is what 9S previously believed based off his own circumstances, because as it stood, there wasn't a single soul in this mansion that he could honestly say he trusted, or even felt close enough to laugh around.

Except the one right next to him.

"Yes, I trust you," he responded strongly, the strength of his tone surprising even him, and before she could ask, 9S opened his eyes.

His room was in its usual state of darkness, although without the usual undercurrent of frost that came along with it, from being surrounded by those who didn't care if he cried from the loneliness or not; it was significantly warmer thanks to the woman next to him, the woman he was staring up at with those light blue eyes of his.

Immediately, 9S expected 2B to ask what about his eyes was so dire that they needed to be covered, he expected her to make some sort of comment about them, something in the realm of curiosity or intrigue, so it came as a shock when she continued on as though nothing had happened.

"I would say you probably fancied to play the piano on the weekends," she started just as unperturbed, just as cool, "but then… I saw the backs of your hands and figured that maybe the urge for such endeavors weren't so strong."

If that wasn't the most perceptive thing 9S had ever witnessed, and his awe shined through in his eyes. "I… I…." Even though Miss 2B was sporting the same kind of eye wrap as he was, he could feel her gaze penetrating him with all the sharpness of a blade and he looked away to gather himself. "I d-do… normal stuff… n-normal things…."

"Normal, you say, young sir." Even 9S was not so naive as to miss the emotionless disbelief in her tone, and he twitched when she took him by the hands, flipping them over and running her thumbs along his palms. "Hm…."

At this particular point, 9S had no clue what Miss 2B was doing, and to be absolutely frank, he didn't even care; nothing really mattered beyond the soft, comforting caresses her mere thumbs were bringing him.

"Your hands are quite rough and worn, young sir," 2B spoke matter-of-factly, and 9S felt his stomach drop into a black hole. Perhaps she also felt him twitch to go along with his nervous and wholly audible swallow because she increased the hold over his hands ever so slightly, discouraging any ideas toward shrinking away. "Considering the abysmal levels of attention you receive, I suppose it's only natural that no one else has caught on to this. However, just by looking at these calluses, all these old cuts and wounds… it's quite clear to me what you've been doing, young sir."

Almost before Miss 2B could finish, 9S was stammering out every explanation he could conceive on the spot to explain himself. He didn't even dare try to lie as not only did that seem extremely disrespectful to the only person he trusted right now, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that she would see through it as easily as she had his palms.

"Calm yourself, little sir," 2B said, and the affectionate way she addressed him brought 9S down to merely looking uncomfortable, like he could feel the punishment coming up behind him. "I feel I can rest a little easier knowing you've progressed so far in the art of swordplay." Even in the looming darkness, 9S could make out the hint of a smile over Miss 2B's lips, though it was gone before he could determine if he had seen right. "May I see what you've been practicing with?"

Yes, the jig was truly up. Whatever modicum of hope 9S possessed that maybe—just maybe—Miss 2B would have guessed wrong were dashed against the wall and 9s nodded, hesitantly lowering himself to the floor. He further lowered himself, onto his hands and knees, and began rummaging underneath his bed. It might not have been the most secretest of spots to hide something so dire, but then again, with 9s practically invisible throughout most of the day, he knew no one would notice.

He pulled out a rather long, thick wooden box that was almost half the size of himself and placed it on the bed next to 2B, who he could feel tracing it with her eyes. "Here it is," he said, reclaiming his seat and undoing the side clasps. "This is what I've been—"

The sound of breaking porcelain cut through 9S's words and he glanced over his shoulder at the door. His ear twitched, pinpointing the noise a couple hallways over. It was probably a vase that had fallen—and for precisely that reason, 9S felt his heartbeat begin to quicken.

"Miss 2B, did you… did you hear that?" he asked shortly, revolving slowly where he sat to fully face his door.

"Naturally," responded 2B passively, taking out his weapon and glancing it over. It was a simple three-foot sword, sharpened edge, square guard, nothing really worth noting, which she found impressive if the subtle click of her tongue was any indicator. "Such phenomenal progress with only a rudimentary sword and no guidance…."

Sure, 9S had heard the praise, and at any other time, he would have probably melted at her kind words, but tension was causing his shoulders to hunch. The last time something had broken in this mansion was four years ago when a new butler accidentally dropped a champagne glass, and he was immediately replaced. There were no mistakes allowed in the Yorha estate, it was expressly forbidden.

So for 9S to hear that sound….

"Something's wrong," he muttered, the tension bleeding into his eyes, causing his pupils to dilate. "S-something's wrong and I don't know—"

"That would be the sound of half the service workforce of the Yorha family coming to kill you," 2B supplied, and she summarily ignored the way 9S's head snapped in her direction, lifting his sword to face-level to stare down the back. "They're ahead of schedule, which means they're nervous, afraid. Lead with those kinds of emotions and you make mistakes… like the one you just heard. Although, with a sword as straight as this, you should do just fine," she added, nonplussed.

"D-do fine? Fine against _what_?" 9S asked rather shrilly, struggling to keep his voice down as he turned from the door back to Miss 2B. "What do you mean they're coming to k—"

He was silenced when 2B took hold of his hand and placed the hilt of his sword in it.

"I say they're ahead of schedule because it's only"—her head angled toward the nightstand clock—"seven to midnight. They must be really wary of you, young sir."

Nothing was making sense and every time 2B opened her mouth, it only served to further compound 9S's confusion. He could feel a headache growing along with his anxiety; his sword arm began to tremble and he gripped it by the wrist. "M-Miss 2B, I don't understand… what's going on?"

"Why, young sire, have you forgotten?" 2B asked, impossibly blasé despite all that she had said, and 9S shook his head, looking about ready to be sick.

"I guess I have…."

2B uttered something under breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Silly" before she lifted a hand to the ceiling.

"In five minutes time, it'll be your thirteenth birthday, young sir."

A circle of resplendent gold burst out of 2B's palm, expanding into a hula-hoop sized band that revolved above her head, bathing everything in the room in the white glow emanating from within.

For one wild moment, 9S just knew his corneas were going to melt right out of his skull, but as he continued to gaze at this miraculous source of light, he realized that the complete opposite was in effect. This light was… peaceful, just as calming as Miss 2B and his grandmother; he could have stared at it for hours.

"And what is a birthday without this," 2B mused, reaching into that wonderful circle of light and withdrawing—

"A… is that a cupcake?" 9S asked, pointing with a feeble finger.

"Indeed." The frosted confectionary sat perfectly in 2B's outstretched hand, topped with a single lit candle. "Here, young sir, eat. Enjoy."

How 2B could so easily say such a thing baffled 9S to the point of speechlessness, but he took the cupcake all the same.

"I thought I would have more time to do this but alas…." And 2B broke off to stick her hand through the circle above her head again, this time withdrawing the most nefarious sword 9S had ever seen, one with jagged ends and serrated edges that all but guaranteed a very painful death for whoever it cut. "I only have three minutes to explain at length what's about to happen, but first... you must make a choice, young sir."

On his fourth attempt at blowing out the candle, and finally succeeding, 9S blinked. "A choice?" He didn't like those, he rarely chose right.

"Yes," 2B replied, and she stood, strolling around 9S's four-poster bed to stand in front of his door, her sword held out to her side. "When your grandmother created me—"

"_Created you_?" 9S repeated, aghast, and he tumbled from the bed, sword and all, landing with a dull thud on his side. "Wait—ow!—Miss 2B, I don't underst—created _how_—"

"I am a next generation combat android," 2B told him calmly, cutting through his ramblings. "And it's my job to keep you alive through this."

"This? What's _this_?"

The sound of thundering footsteps throughout the mansion were starting grow on the peripherals of 9S's hearing, which was threatening to short-circuit under every single word that fell from Miss 2B's mouth. What was she talking about?

"Miss 2B, you can't be serious," he started weakly, getting to his knees and staring pleadingly at the back of her head. "You're not… there's just no way…."

Almost as if 2B hadn't heard a single word 9S had said, she went on with, "Your grandmother had skills far beyond what she told you, young sir. Crafting androids? That was one of them. Crafting tide-turners for the war against machines? That was another."

"War? Against what m-machines?" That headache from earlier was in full-swing before 2B could finish and 9S twitched with pain, grasping at his temple. "I still… I still don't understand," he rasped. "M-my head hurts…."

"No, it doesn't," 2B said practically. "That pain you feel is purely psychosomatic because you're an android as well, young sir."

"…what?" Everything seemed to fade away into an ocean as black as the shadows created from 2B's angelic circle and 9S fell back against his bed, eyes widening, jaw falling. "I'm… I'm an…?"

"An android, yes," 2B reiterated firmly, and 9S couldn't help but notice that she hadn't looked at him since taking her spot in front of the door. All he saw was her back. "Your grandmother created the both of us, me first… then you. We're next-generation tier androids, top class, the very best of her abilities made manifest. The wraps we wear over our eyes are military visors, young sir, meant to relay information directly from her to us. This version of you was made with a defective visor that damaged your eyes, but even still, your grandmother wanted—"

9S suddenly made a noise that sounded like a strangled yelp and he leaned forward, looking oddly as if he were teetering on the edge of madness by the strained look contorting his face. "You mean… my eyes, they… that's why I can't see in the light? That's why it hurts?" He cast an angry glare at the wrap on his nightstand. "Because of _that_?"

2B gave the smallest of nods. "I am truly sorry for how you've had to suff—"

"Wait," 9S muttered, and oddly enough, 2B fell silent almost as if gagged. Gears were starting to turn in 9S's head, gears that he felt had been clogged before and were only beginning to operate with 2B's… with her truth. Because she wasn't lying, he knew she wasn't, because he trusted her… he trusted her just like his—"My grandma… you—Miss 2B, when you mentioned my grandma, you mentioned her like she was still… l-like she was still…."

The warmth that once claimed his room was all but snuffed out when 2B glanced over her shoulder at him. He couldn't see her eyes but he could feel her pity, feel her remorse—and he suddenly felt very cold, colder than he could ever remember feeling.

9S was shaking his head without realizing it, the disbelief shining bright in light blue eyes that were beginning to glisten. "No, but… that can't be right, it can't be! My grandma died!" he shouted, propelled by sheer anger to one knee. "I was there—at the funeral, I was there! I saw it when they put her in the ground! She's dead!"

Saying that, that his grandmother was dead, over and over, it was like driving a nail into his already battered heart, but he had to, because he had seen it with his own eyes. His grandmother in that crimson red casket, he remembered the family members, all the tears and well wishes, the ceremonies… he remembered it all so clearly.

"Do you remember arriving for the funeral, young sir?" 2B asked unexpectedly, and 9S blinked again, feverishly.

"Wh-what? Do I—"

"Do you remember how you arrived at the funeral? How you got home? Can you recall either of those things?"

It was nearly impossible to think with the nearing yells of the mob of maids and butlers barreling toward them but even canceling that out and forcing his heartbeat to calm, 9S could find no answer to 2B's questions. He couldn't remember how he had gotten to the funeral, only that he was there, and how he got home was just as murky.

Taking his struggling silence as an answer, 2B lowered her sword ever so slightly. "Those were implanted memories, Nines," she told him softly, and the sudden shift in name caused 9S to look up so quickly that his neck cracked. "Your grandmother is still alive and very well."

Because 9S knew 2B was telling the truth, he felt a surge of happiness burst just behind his chest, powerful enough to make him cry.

Except his eyes never progressed further than a slight burning sensation, and he touched a finger to his cheek.

"Miss 2B, h-how come I… I can't cry?" he asked feebly. "I really, really want to, but my tears, they're not… they won't—"

"Androids can't cry, Nines," came the staid answer. "We're not human."

"O-oh…" Ironically, hearing that only made 9S want to cry harder, but when his face scrunched up, not a single tear escaped to match the way his heart was breaking. "Please, stop… Miss 2B, p-please, I don't want to believe this," he croaked, beginning to feel suffocatingly constrained within his own skin.

"Nines, your grandmother implanted certain memories into you to make _this_"—2B nodded at the door, which was now being besieged by all manner of blunt objects—"more bearable. She wanted you to live, to _survive_, to be the best. It's no coincidence that you picked up that sword. You've never trained with it."

Past all that he heard, this was one thing that 9S felt hammer a stake through his insides and he began to frantically shake his head. "But—but there's no way—I did! I practiced for _years_, Miss 2B! Day after day, month after month—you saw my hands, I practiced until they bled and—"

Silently, 2B turned to face the little boy she had been brought on to protect. "Nines. You've only been active for a single day."

It was like something heavy had struck 9S in the chest when he fell over backwards, thudding against his bed frame. His mouth flopped uselessly, speech was something beyond him as his brain struggled to comprehend those words. But he couldn't, there was no way he could—because it made no sense!

Active for only a day?

_How_?

He had a plethora of memories dating back years, especially the ones with his sword, all the days and nights teaching himself from the ground up, how to hold it, how to swing it, how to perform blade maintenance, he so clearly remembered every little detail that it felt like…

His breath caught.

"It feels like it was just yesterday," he uttered almost robotically, a clear glimmer of horror resonating within his eyes.

"Because yesterday was the day you were born again, Nines," 2B spoke, still somehow managing to sound emotionless even while 9S clutched at his chest like he were suffering a heart attack. "Your skill with the blade is inherited from me. Every ounce of combat data I've been able to gather from my own experiences has been transplanted into you, Nines. Up until the point where I put that weapon into your hand, you'd never even held a sword."

The look on 9S's face was drawn and gaunt, the spark of life and happiness from before supplanted with a grim acceptance. He didn't respond to 2B's words; in fact, he didn't look responsive to much, he just sat leaning against his bed and staring up at the android who had simultaneously given him the best and worst day of his… life? No, a single day couldn't be counted as truly living….

"This is our forty-eighth time running this simulation, Nines," 2B went on.

Looking somewhat surprised, 9S had only parted his lips when a particularly loud thud against the door caused an ominous crack to run right up the middle. He figured that must have been the Yorha mansion Sous Chef, since only he was big enough to bodyslam a door and do that much damage.

"Forty… eighth," 9S repeated, more to himself than anything. "W-why…? What happened to… did we fail? What's even the point of this?"

"I told you already," 2B whispered gently, and her soft tone was almost like a warm hand caressing his cheek. "Your grandmother wants you to be the best of all the androids, so they run these simulations against humans who turned traitor for the machines. Your mission, as it always is, is to cut these traitors down in as efficient a manner as possible while accruing as little damage to yourself as you can. They run these simulations to iron out any bugs you may have and so if you fail, your statistics for that simulation are preserved and passed to the next 9S. It's a circle of data harvesting designed to make you perfect."

Clenching his jaw, 9S hung his head, his silvery bangs falling and creating a shadow over his face.

Perfect. That term didn't apply to him, not to him. To 9S, the idea of perfect was… it was before this, before he found out the truth, back when he and 2B were walking through the mansion gardens, back when she snuck him a popsicle before lunch, back when they were just talking about each other and the things they liked.

That was his idea of perfect.

"There's a certain ironic poetry at play here, I'd say… using machines to fight machines," mused 2B, watching as 9S took his sword in a grip steadier than his trembling form. She immediately took a step toward him, offering a hand. "Are you ready to fight now, Nines? If I can say, you've come quite a ways compared to previous tries. I know we can do th—"

When 9S lifted his head, 2B reversed her step and let out a gasp that held more emotion than anything she had thus far said.

Tracks of water were glittering down 9S's face, curving his cheeks and dripping off his chin. His eyes, once a stunning light blue, were bloodshot, but… there no remorse or hatred or defeat there, not anymore. He stared at Miss 2B with an expression that could only be seen as admiration, almost as if he were grateful.

"I know… I know this is gonna sound weird but… Miss 2B? I wanna thank you, for giving me the best day of life," 9S said, rubbing at his cheek with the back of his hand. When he saw the wetness there, his lips spread in a gentle smile. "Hey, look… I can cry. That means I'm human, right…?"

A look of bafflement had rendered 2B unable to speak and 9S sniffled, giving a watery little laugh.

"Before I met you, Miss 2B, I… I really wasn't sure, you know? I didn't know how I'd be able to go on—I had all these awful, dark thoughts, I had them all the time... but then you came outta n-nowhere and—and you showed me such a great time, treated me like I was somebody, like I _mattered_… It was so nice just to talk with you, walk with you, to have my hair rustled….These hours with you, Miss 2B, they were everything I always wanted."

And then, 9S moved so fast that all 2B could do was blink when the littler android drove that rudimentary sword through his own chest.

"_Nines_!"

Hearing 2B cry his name like that was painful, more painful than what he had done, but 9S continued to smile. Being an android, he knew he wasn't feeling any actual pain, like she had told him. He knew that the discomfort stemming from the sword imbedded in his chest was purely psychosomatic, that the fluids dribbling over his bottom lip were—

Wait.

Basic motor functions were beginning to fail quickly yet 9S managed to reach up and touch a finger to his bottom lip. When he pulled away and saw the shockingly red blood that stained the tip of his forefinger, he squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in his bottom lip, silently struggling to keep from breaking down before issuing a shuddering gasp that saw more tears fall.

"I hope… that the next me… that he's able to pass…." It was difficult to talk with the copious amount of blood determined to choke him into the darkness reaching in from the corners of his vision, but through it all, he could make out Miss 2B.

She was on her knees—funny, he didn't remember her falling—and reaching out for him. There was anguish in her face and her mouth was moving, probably shouting his name, possibly telling him to hang on, but not only couldn't 9S hear properly, he didn't feel like hanging on anymore.

Hanging on was what he had done for what he thought had been years, and although he had only been alive for a day, he still felt each and every one of those tortuous days implanted into his memory.

He just… wanted to rest.

He didn't want to live with this corrosive knowledge that… that it—that _everything—_was all a lie.

"Th-thanks again, Miss 2B," he sputtered with a peaceful smile framed with tears, "I've never felt so much happiness before, so I'm gonna t-take it with me… I'm gonna take it with me wherever I wind up next…." And he closed his eyes, mentally grabbing onto every memory he had shared with Miss 2B since meeting her; he grabbed and refused to let go even as everything around him grew startlingly cold. "W-whatever journey is next after this, Miss 2B, y-you'll… I know you'll be with me…."

* * *

**Three Hours Later**

She sat quite still in one of the plush white armchairs in the Yorha mansion living room. It was sickeningly soft, and although she had no way of feeling that to know for certain, she was able to make an educated guess by how deeply she sank into the cushion.

On her right and being marched out the front door in a single file line were numerous Yorha maids and butlers, cooks and groundkeepers, each of them in handcuffs and ankle restraints, shunting and stumbling with every off-balance step. They were being closely watched on both sides by ominous figures in riot gear, figures with guns held high, shifting from head to head almost as if daring one of them to do something stupid.

But they wouldn't. Because they were used to this routine by now. For the past four years years, they had been subjected to the same mind-numbing routine. Up before the first rays of sun, they would don their gender-appropriate costume and pretend to be the loyal helpers of the Yorha family estate—she even saw the traitors who portrayed his parents—until midnight where they would proceed to try and intercept the latest iteration of the prodigy android 9S. Since the help were all traitors to what remained of the country, whoever managed to 'kill' 9S had their sentence drastically reduced.

Just looking at them, scanning their dejected faces at having their one chance for freedom snatched away… it filled 2B with an abnormally strange amount of happiness.

To her left, standing almost immediately next to her, was the creator of Yorha Robotics, the seasoned woman who went only by her codename: Grandma. Her shoulder-length hair was a refined, glistening silver, untouched by her age; it was the same color she passed down to her creations, a designers trademark of sorts. Her face was creased with years of toil and hard-work, and her eyes, they were a coarse blue that carried a harrowing wisdom and spoke of the many atrocities she had been forcibly made witness to, that had turned her into the unmoving pillar of hope known the world over. Her pinstripe skirt-suit was extremely tight, revealing a healthy amount of cleavage while a slit up the side of her skirt was all too eye-catching, which was probably an intentional design when 2B considered her own rather risqué attire.

"—wanted to see how his mentality would hold up upon hearing the truth, so we tweaked 2B's dialogue this time, gave her more reign to tell the truth, as much as she deemed she could," Grandma was crisply saying to a small group of personnel ranging from militant to political to scientific. She extended a hand toward 2B and immediately, nearly all eyes fell upon the android sitting stock-still beside her. "It was an infancy test for another area. We're testing several at once, a little here, a little there."

"Do you really think that… prudent?" asked one of the militant looking personnel and 2B recognized him as one of the bolder of the bunch, having already stolen several inappropriate glances off her creator's salacious figure. "Too many ideas in the pot can create an unsettling amount of friction, can it not?"

Even though this small gathering of minds were the ones Grandma ultimately had to answer to and provide evidence of progress after every test ended, when she fixed those cutting blue eyes of hers on the decorated officer, it was quite clear who wielded the true power the moment he straightened up as though she had lashed him with a ruler.

"Of course. 9S is… a special android, built from the very best pieces we have utilizing the best data we possess. My esteemed colleagues," she began, shifting her eyes from the officer (and he seemed wholly grateful for it) to take in the entire crowd, "we can't simply have a combat android anymore. The results are brief—positive, to be certain, but nothing more than a spark for something greater. We need the _perfect_ android; it has to be expressive, have a conscience all its own. History has already shown us what the cold and unfeeling can do, what steel and lack of mercy can do… we're fighting the war against such monstrous components as I speak. 9S is the end to all of that."

The murmurs were starting up, as they usual did, and to 2B, most of them sounded convinced, and that's all Grandma needed. The majority.

"With simulation forty-eight concluded, we've managed to gain an untold amount of golden data," Grandma continued briskly, and while her tone remained as professional as ever, 2B could already hear the tremors of hunger growing in her words. "9S bonded faster with 2B than any other before him, he _listened _longer, and this time he was happy upon committing suicide. This… this is significant progress, and all because we shifted a few key words in 2B's explanation."

Nothing but hardened resolve blazed in Grandma's eyes, the same kind of resolve that caused those in her presence to bend in whatever direction she wished because none had the will to suggest otherwise, to try and dissuade her. They never had, and they never would. Because Grandma's determination was just as cold and unfeeling as a machine's. She didn't care for 9S the way she made others believe, the way she made the public believe. In numerous interviews, she referred to 9S as her son and lavished him with adoration, but did mothers treat their children this way? Did mothers use their own children as expendable pawns? To be hacked up, broken down, bled dry, and discarded… only to bring out the next version and repeat the process?

It was a cycle that 2B hated, that she downright despised with far more force than she thought she was capable of and figured it was this 'conscience' phenomenon that Grandma kept going on about. 2B's conscience hated seeing 9S treated this way… she hated watching him go through the same mental manipulation that made him think the first twelve years of his life had been a living hell, she hated being the one who had to bring him hope only to throw it back in his face, and… and she really, _really_ hated having to witness 9S kill himself, over and over, dying heartbroken and alone.

"Every other 9S before this one had always killed themselves out of anger or remorse, or had been taken out by one of the help while shellshocked with grief. But this one, he wanted to _preserve_ the memory of 2B treating him kindly. No matter how look at it, this is a resounding success. We're drawing ever closer to the most perfect form of life without life," Grandma flourished, and while her guests all began to agree like the flunkies they were, 2B sat there in a silent rage.

There was nothing perfect about what they were doing to 9S, nothing at all. There was only deceit, only cruelty and torture. He was such a sweet and well-mannered android that no amount of re-coding could change his inherent mannerisms. In that regard, 9S truly was the pinnacle of Grandma's Yorha Robotics project, he really was the best of them all… and these flesh-covered monsters were constantly trying to twist that innocent boy into something he was never meant to be.

"No."

The word fell harshly from 2B's mouth, almost gnashed out, and for the second time that day, everyone, including Grandma, turned in her direction. The guests were looking politely expectant, like they figured 2B had something to add, but it was Grandma who fixed 2B with a hawk-like glare.

"Did you have something you wished to say, 2B?" Grandma wondered tersely, and it may have seemed like an inviting question to anyone else but 2B was not stupid by any means and understood the clear threat behind every syllable aimed her way.

"N. O. Numerical Oddity," 2B stated without hesitation, lying as smoothly as breathing. "I seem to have data for all previous 9S simulations except for the thirty-seventh. Currently, I'm trying to determine if the file is corrupted, ma'am."

"Seems 9S isn't the only one with a bug or two to stamp out," joked a sharply dressed younger woman holding a clipboard, and before she could even begin to smile, the look on Grandma's face choked her into an apologetic silence.

"Yes, well, don't worry about such things, 2B," Grandma said, never once breaking eye contact with the woman who had spoken, not until she had blinked first and quickly looked away, "we've got back-ups upon back-ups of every session."

"Yes, ma'am."

The idea of this benevolent, nurturing, kind-hearted grandma that was implanted into every new 9S model, that gave each one their main source of hope and inspiration… it never existed. It was nothing more than a carefully crafted memory to better intertwine with 9S's innately gentle nature in an attempt at garnering better end results.

When Grandma went back to conversing with her superiors, 2B was quick to catch the atmospherical shift surrounding her creator. Thanks to that earlier slip, she sounded skeptical now, on high alert, because 2B never had outbursts like that. It wasn't in her programming.

Which was nothing if not a clear indicator that 9S was not the only android constantly evolving.

"—and if you'll notice, we've started utilizing a synthetic oil made to look like blood," Grandma went on.

"Ah yes," said an older man, "that was most entertaining, and just a little bit of a shock, to be honest. I almost forgot I was watching an android!"

"And such is the point," said Grandma respectfully, half-smiling. "We're trying to instill the idea of truly being alive, after all. Deciphering the data from simulation thirty-nine—"

"Ooooh, yes, that was a very bloody one," chirped a smaller woman excitedly, and 2B was extremely glad for the visor obscuring her eyes so the look of unbridled disgust that she aimed in the woman's direction went by largely unnoticed. "That's the one where he killed at least ten of the help before being overwhelmed, right?"

"The very one," said Grandma. "What we gleaned most in number thirty-nine was an unstable rise in basic motor functions at the sight of his own 'blood' not being normal blood. So we endeavored to fix that, and as this latest simulation proves, believing that real blood flowed through his veins gave him immense comfort before death. Had he been wearing his visor at the time, the following shock would have certainly activated it, just as in previous runs."

She brought her hands together, joining those slender fingertips and offering up a hollow smile that twisted 2B's insides.

"I assure you, everything will come together. One piece at a time."

Silently, ever respectfully, 2B sat there watching as every corroded soul in attendance began to clap. It struck her like a blow to the chest, what her true purpose for existence was. All this time, 2B believed herself to be the extended hand of Grandma, of her creator, but no… now she could see with a startling clarity.

She was meant to save. She was built to protect. She existed to help.

And just like Grandma had said… one piece at a time, somehow, someway, 2B was already putting plans into motion in her head, running through scenarios, creating contingencies on top of contingencies. Because things could no longer be allowed to stay as they were. They wouldn't. Not while she was still functional.

Because 9S deserved to experience _real_ happiness, and 2B was determined to bring it to him.

"2B."

Whenever Grandma called, 2B was programmed to answer within half a second, without fail.

Two seconds later, 2B responded idly, "Yes, ma'am?"

"Your hands appear to be clenched," Grandma noticed, and if it were anyone else, anyone of mortal flesh, they would have been seared underneath the piercing glare Grandma was beaming down her nose at the top of 2B's head. "Now… why would that be?"

It was like the calm before the storm that would destroy the entire mansion, and perhaps the ones gathered could tell because their eyes were flying from Grandma to the elder android in a blur.

And then 2B opened her mouth.

* * *

**A/N**: **#yearoftheoneshot**


End file.
